


Mixtape

by Tea_Queen_2112



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Branding, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Ramsay Bolton is His Own Warning, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:14:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24145699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tea_Queen_2112/pseuds/Tea_Queen_2112
Summary: Written for Thramsay Kinkmeme 2020. The request was "Crazy ex-boyfriend Ramsay. Maybe he and Theon broke up for a while and Ramsay didn’t take it seriously, but now he’s done with waiting or Theon’s started seeing other people. I just want him to snap and do something drastic, but for there to be a really uncomfortable intimacy to it because of how they were together for so long
Relationships: Ramsay Bolton/Theon Greyjoy
Comments: 11
Kudos: 57
Collections: Thramsay2020 Kinkmeme Event





	Mixtape

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sylvanWhispers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylvanWhispers/gifts).



> For the great SylvanWhispers. I hope it's good :D

Ramsay’s mix tape wasn’t what Theon had expected to be listening to this afternoon. He hadn’t planned to be listening to it ever again. 

A perfect mix of tragedy and comedy. 

Yet here he was, sitting in the passenger seat of the car that stank of cigarettes and old food. The speakers had the pleasure of being right next to his ears. Theon knew this car well. From the broken glove compartment to the empty gin bottle dampening the backseat. The whole backseat was stained with so many liquids. Some he remembered, some he didn’t and some he wished he could forget. 

And of course there was the driver who always seemed to accompany him on their little drives. 

Ramsay’s hair was greasy and unkempt. Ramsay’s normally smooth face was littered with some five o’clock shadow. To top it all off his bloodshot eyes were akin of those of a demons. 

“Yara will be missing me. Suppose leave me off at her house and I’ll be back tomorrow. How does that sound?” Theon asked. 

Not a sound was made. He hadn’t made a sound since he’d so politely _‘picked him up.’_.

“She really will be. We can go to her house and meet her for a cup of tea. Come Rams.”

Ramsay lit the cigarette in his mouth, taking the occasional drag while letting the smoke blow in Theon’s general direction. 

“That sounds difficult considering she’s over 100 miles away.” Ramsay said, pushing down the car’s lighter. 

He was acutely aware of Ramsay’s gaze as he looked him up and down, predator sharp eyes taking in the details. Theon could only imagine what he must look like, dishevelled and weak. Just how Ramsay liked him. 

He averted his eyes. He should have guessed Ramsay would know that. Ramsay knew everything. He couldn’t have a single thing in his life for himself without Ramsay slithering his way in. 

Theon could only look around as they travelled down the road. The trees all blurred together as Ramsay put his foot down harder on the pedal. Theon recognised his surroundings once they were out of the narrow street, onto an open back road. The route that led to the house. The house that led to the cold hard walls of that prison cell he called a room.

The last time he’d been in that room he was frantically shifting through the wardrobe for any essential items. Warm clothes, good shoes and money. All things he needed if he was going to go on the run from his own boyfriend. It made him feel like a wanted man.

“Ramsay, please. I know this is your sense of humour or whatever but if you keep this up-”

The Bolton turned to look at him for the second time since they’d started to drive. 

“That tone- Where’d you get it from?”

The voice Ramsay used when he was angry. A little infliction he’d seemed to have acquired from Roose. He didn’t yell and somehow that made it all the more worse. At least with anger he’d have an idea of where things were heading but when Ramsay was cold, his unpredictability left him with lingering dread. At any moment he could either crash them into a tree or drive them off of a cliff. 

“Excuse me?” Theon asked. 

“Because you certainly didn’t have it when you left me. I helped train that out of you. Didn’t I?”

He didn’t need to be reminded of Ramsay’s training. Theon held his wrist in his hand. The mottled bruise had dulled with time yet still felt as fresh as the day he got it. Yet he’d been too nervous to go to a doctor about them despite his sister's very vocal protests. 

He found himself still making the odd glance towards Ramsay’s hands. He’d been gripping the wheel tight for a little over fifteen minutes now, his fingers making a repeated tapping rhythm on the leather. 

“There’ll be CCTV.” Theon muttered. 

Theon prayed that Robb realised something was wrong by now. That no person would spend so long smoking outside in the middle of winter. That after the first hour he might begin to panic and call the police. The outside of the bar should have been covered by cameras. One thing he needed to take into consideration was how well Ramsay tended to plan things. It honestly wouldn’t surprise him if he somehow the bar's camera wire was mysteriously cut. 

“If you keep talking I’ll pull over this car.”

Ramsay’s eyes were kept firmly on the road, Theon was semi startled at his coldness. In his seat he turned to the side, arms folded.

Theon looked down at the black tarmac that peaked through the slushy snow blanket. He might have considered jumping out of the car. He’d hold out for a hope that the snow could maybe cushion his fall. A face full of gravel would be better than whatever punishment Ramsay had lined up for him. He wouldn’t want to give his ex any ideas in regards to his face and tarmac.

Ramsay started to tap out a rhythm on the top of the wheel. The mix tape going on to the next track. Theon scoffed upon hearing the tune again. 

The car Ramsay drove was from the 90s at best. The last gift from Theon being a small mix tape with all of Ramsay’s favourite songs attached to it. The genre of the tape was piercing metal and loud percussion that stabbed everyone's eardrums. Theon hated it but he’d wanted to impress Ramsay so badly that he sat and endured it. Now he just wanted to smash the small thing with a bloody hammer. 

The night he’d first met Ramsay they’d fought over their tastes in music. He’d called him an asshole, Ramsay punched him in the nose and somehow by the end of the evening high on coke and reaching first base in the Starks coat cupboard. The whole event seemed so removed now. The Starks, his freedom and any opinion he might have had beforehand. 

He'd never forget what it sounded like. The first song they fucked too. Back when everything had been perfect. When the stars ignited the skies and they’d been the only two people in all of creation. Not to mention how amazing Ramsay was at being physical, the way he used his tongue and those fingers made Theon melt. 

He supposed if music had been the hook the sex was what reeled him in. 

When the sweet touches turned to brutal force.

“You know when you left me that morning I thought it was a nightmare.” Ramsay said. 

“A nightmare?” Theon asked. He slightly turned his head back. He wouldn’t let himself get invested into the pool of twisted bullshit again. 

“Yes. I was so worried about you baby. Imagine waking up and the one you love isn’t in your bed anymore. You know how many enemies I have. I thought you were dead or worse. You didn’t even talk to me about it.”

Theon winced. They had passed the point of communicating. Theon tried and tried but he never got anywhere with it. In hindsight, he could have handled the situation better rather than just leaving the house and sending a text. Ramsay probably wouldn’t have even listened anyway. 

Being in a relationship with Ramsay was like death or worse. Being a ghost might have been a more appropriate expression. He felt like he was walking on eggshells, not enraging the bull and all other forms of bullshit expressions he’d use around his ex-boyfriend. For the longest time, it had been the boiling frog and he finally realized the pot was boiling. The sweetness at the beginning had been the best he’d ever had but Ramsay wasn't that same person. Not anymore. 

The new Ramsay was Theon’s ether. Toxic, volatile and dangerous in the wrong amounts. It was all worth it for the sweet intoxication that he brought with him. Recently the intoxication stopped being enough. As fun as the ride was the game was getting dangerous. 

“I told you I was leaving. It wasn’t my fault you didn’t take it seriously.” 

Theon was firm. He’d been told by everyone he needed to leave and quite frankly he knew they were right. The endless screaming between them, bruises littering his arms and the fear. The fear that acted like background radiation of his entire life. He didn’t want to believe it at first because of how wonderful he was but the thing about wonder is that it can leave as quickly as it comes. 

“Well I’m bringing you back home to pack.”

“Really?” He was still defensive yet he lowered his arms. Perhaps Ramsay was having a good day and this was the end of it. 

“All those wonderful gifts you got from me. Those pictures of the memories we made together. It’s a two-man job. I would have brought them to the dump but I wanted to let you have the first pick.” 

Theon let out a sigh. 

“Rams...It wasn’t working. Please don’t do this.” 

“I really thought we had a connection. Everyone threw you away and now you’re throwing me away. Throwing us away. I thought you liked all that I did for you. I’m trying my best.”

“I’m not throwing it away. I need a break. Do you know how stressful it is living with you? All the dogs and the knives and you coming home late. You said yourself you have enemies. And that scares me. This lifestyle scares me.” He didn’t want to be the bad guy in all of this. All his life he had people telling him that and he was sure that. Tedious whispers that went behind his back or yelled directly into his face. 

Ramsay scratched his chin. He took a swig from the drink that lay in the cupholder. A faint alcoholic smell coming wafting over to Theon, adding to Theon’s confidence. Not only was he stuck in a car with his psychopathic ex, he was stuck in a car with his drunk psychopathic ex. 

“I’m providing for you. Unless you want to go back to your father. Back to Ned and Catelyn. Back to all those unsavoury people you managed to piss off.” All it took was for Ramsay to cast a single glance his way for the sickness to settle into his stomach.

“No! I mean...I can live on my own. I don’t need you or anyone.” He said with a raised voice. Theon hated how quickly he responded to Ramsay's thinly veiled threat.

There wasn’t any use crying about it. He didn’t need Ramsay’s big house or all of his money when he had his freedom. Physical comforts paled in comparison to emotional comforts. 

Ramsay’s eyebrow raised. 

“And when your dealers come for you? For your friends and family. What then? I’d feel terrible if one were to come at you with a drill.” Ramsay said with a poisonous sting, a hand patting Theon’s kneecap. 

Theon was no longer huddled in his seat. He was sitting there, arms by his side, breathing rapidly. The mention of his dealer almost sending him into a state of panic. Ramsay was good enough to pay off his debts but money couldn’t erase bad blood. If they learned Ramsay was no longer protecting him and everyone he knew would be fair game. A chance Theon couldn’t take. In the hierarchy, no one dared touch anyone associated with the Bolton bastard.

The Bolton Bastard and his father’s criminal empire. 

“Come home and all will be forgiven.” 

Those cyanide laden words Theon knew so well and yet couldn’t help but take. It was all too much, the pounding of the music, the touch of Ramsay’s hands. The sensory overload waging war in his brain. 

“You’re not giving me a choice.” 

The one thing Ramsay had convinced him of. That he had a choice in all of this. After being away for the past couple of months the shocking realization hit him. The realization that he really didn’t have a choice in anything. Not when it came to Ramsay. Any choice was just presented as a profession courtesy. 

“Oh, sweetheart. That’s a good thing. I always know what’s best for you. I really do have your best interests at heart. I know every inch of you Theon. Inside and outside. No one can have what we have.”

All those times he’d been deep inside of Theon. They'd been the only two people in the damned world when they came together. The rest could burn for all they cared. Theon could tell every single mark Ramsay had on his hands and Ramsay could tell every scar Theon had on his back. 

Ramsay gave Theon that glance. Theon held his head in his hands. The scream he wanted to release was building up in the depths of his lungs. All of his fucked up decisions culminated in this fucking mess. The feeling of having no escape tormenting him to no end. All he wanted was a nice life with nice things but it was never meant to happen. Not to people like him. Not to the son of Balon Greyjoy.

 **“Fuck you!”**

Theon screamed as he punched the dashboard, leaving a sizable dent. Ramsay took a moment to process his lashing out before his eyes returned to the road. 

Ramsay slammed on the brakes. Theon jolted forwards, his body slammed against the dashboard, his head against the glass. The glass didn’t shatter however Theon felt something warm dripping down his forehead. Theon hissed as he tenderly dabbed his fingers into the blood, pulling it in front of his face.

Ramsay drove the car onto the side of the road. As the car stopped Theon tried desperately to jiggle the car handle only for Ramsay to grab him by the collar, bringing him closer. Their bodies were sensually close to each other. Ramsay’s face contorting with anger. 

“This is how you fucking repay me. I own you. If you leave me, my dear darling, I can assure you worse will happen than a cut forehead.” Ramsay grabbed him by his hair, taking a tuft by the handful almost tearing it off from his scalp. The other hand reached below them. The heat of the breath on Theon’s neck, Ramsay’s lips hovering over his neck. 

The searing pain was thrust into Theon’s bare arm. In between Ramsay’s fingers was the red hot cigarette lighter. The scent of hot metal and burning flesh overtaking the stink of the alcohol. 

“Sorry! Please Rams I’m sorry.” Theon begged, his thrashing becoming stiller in favour of twitching. Ramsay was as strong as always, pushing the plug into his flesh even harder. Theon gagged as he begged out for him to stop. Ramsay only glanced down before giving him a sneer. He only gave him a reprimanding slap to the back of the head. 

When the car's cigarette lighter was moved away from his skin he was left with an ugly circular mess of skin no bigger than the size of a coin. Theon shuddered as he gently touched the burn. The skin was blackened towards the centre of the circle. 

The inside of the car was cold enough that the door handle could provide some minor relief. He could have poured Ramsay’s vodka on it and pray it worked but god knows what he’d do for stealing right in front of him. 

“You’ve gone and upset me. I was just trying to be a good boyfriend and protect you. I’d hate to think of someone else hurting you.”

“I know.”

“Say you’re sorry and we’ll forget this little chapter ever happened.” 

“I’m sorry Rams. I was stupid.”

Theon looked down, uneasy breathing as he prepared himself to say it. He felt so stupid to lose his resolve so quickly. Not even an hour into this pseudo-kidnapping and he was already apologizing. 

Ramsay smiled at Theon and placed a hand lovingly on his cheek. His thumb rubbed over his cheek as Theon held back another shudder, like a shock through his body. Between the burns and the bruises, there wasn’t a part of him uncorrupted by Ramsay's callous hands.

Ramsay was right about one thing.

It was like he was trapped in a hole and despite how he felt Ramsay was still there dangling the rope in front of his face. All other exits were sealed. This hell was his own making. Perhaps a justified punishment for his years of whoring and drinking. 

“Better. How about when we get home you can make it up to me a little bit more. “

The hand on Theon’s thigh left no room for debate on what Ramsay wanted. Theon gave a weak smile and nodded. Ramsay’s Cheshire smile was shot towards Theon, the anxiety building up in his stomach the way it had done months ago. 

Theon just lay his head against the window of the car, arm pressed to the door frame. Watching out as his freedom passed him by. 

The mix tape came to an abrupt end.


End file.
